Omniscient Blind
by infinityneverlasts
Summary: She was taken, tortured, and exposed brutally to the World of Magic. Remy isn't an average 14 year old girl, and she doesn't adjust well to change. But when thrown into the Wizarding World, she'll have to endure many changes and obstacles, including letting go.
1. Prologue

Prologue (Third POV)

The room remained dim, a lone light emitting a soft green glow upon its center. Looking closely, scattered rubbish could be seen strewn across the floor by the four dark colored walls. This in fact, was the very room Arthur Weasley had been tortured shortly before Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban. The department of Mysteries.

The sleeping mind of Harry James Potter watched once more, watched as a young woman he didn't know, be tortured. Several nights already he had seen the same dream, though it was different each time. Minute differences such as the lighting, the rubbish, and the girls injuries.

Silently and helplessly, Harry watched once more as she did her best to struggle out of her rope restraints, but her attempts laid in vain. He saw as she shouted, screamed profanities in a heavy American accent no less, and did her best to pry herself upwards and out of the dark wooden chair she was incessantly strapped to.

Slumping unto its hardened frame, her head leant backwards just before— _the_ _only_ —door swung open to reveal a man unknown to Harry. He continued to watch silently as the man barked out a loud laugh, startling the girl into sitting up straight.

Walking slowly around the girl, a sickening feeling erupted into Harry's stomach as he caught the hungry look the man possessed. He looked at the girl as if she was nothing more than a meal, nothing more than something to kill off.

Stopping directly behind her, he leaned down to where his lips lied exactly by her ear, almost touching the skin. The ugly feeling in Harry's stomach worsened as the man spoke lowly to her in a venomous voice, all the while smirking proudly.

"Oh how I've waited for this moment, you filthy _mudblood_,"

_Mudblood._

_Mudblood_…the mysterious girl was a _mudblood._

Taking out his wand, the man gently trailed it down the girls cheek as she flinched away in terror and disgust. Glaring at her, the mans hand shook slightly. Harry watched begrudgingly as the man suddenly smirked, a maniacal spark entering his eyes.

"Come now—" he began to coax while grabbing her shoulders almost fondly. _Almost_. Again, the maniacal look grew as she did her best to go against him, to get away.

"Shut up! Just shut up you worthless piece of sh—" she began, but as soon as the man heard her shouts, his grip left her altogether as he replaced it with his wand. Swishing it fervently, the girl halted her shouts of anger and began screaming in pain.

Water welled at the brim of Harry's eyes as he watched on as she was tortured once more. A small glimmer of hope resonated in him when he remembered he woke up not long after she was put under the Cruciatus Curse. Dread soon filled him along with guilt as he realized he was safe while the girl was _not_.

"Like my Cruciatus Curse here girlie? Enhanced it myself, just for _you_."

Snapping out of his guilt stricken thoughts, Harry saw the man pulling back the girls head by her hair. His eyes remained on the blindfold, the blindfold the man had taken off while yanking her hair and smacking her head against the frame of the chair.

Dully and slowly, she brought her head back up and opened her eyes. Had he been there, Harry would have sucked in an audible breath. Her pale green eyes that mirrored his own glared harshly at the man before her. Her light brown hair that could easily be mistaken for a darker shade of red was disheveled and matted with sweat, grime and her own blood. Never had he fully seen her unknown familiarity.

"You're a _fucking_ lunatic!" She hissed shortly upon seeing his smirking face.

"Well aren't you a pretty one? Eyes like your mother," the man began while raking his eyes slowly across her battered body, taking in a form of sick pleasure at the sight he saw.

"_Bastard!_" She shouted before spitting at his feet. Harry's eyes grew at her boldness, but grew even more when the man simply sighed and did nothing to harm her.

"But your fathers _bloody_ mouth," the man groaned while rubbing his forehead, as if he was babysitting a child that finally dug under his skin. Sighing once more, he took out his wand and twirled it about his fingers absentmindedly. When he glanced back at the girl, any sort of emotion had vanished. All that was left was oblivion. An empty hollow of a person.

"I think I've had enough fun with my wand," he started with a dull smirk while rubbing his wand with an affectionate look before casting her another blank, uncaring stare. "Consider yourself lucky. I generally torture my victims into insanity, but for your pretty face, I'll spare you _that_ pain and kill you off quickly." He finished and raised his wand at her.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry had nearly keeled over. _When will I wake up?!_

_"Accio!"_ A familiar voice bellowed from the farthest corner of the room. Harry watched in relief as Sirius' wand flicked, bringing the chair the girl sat in, moving quickly towards him and out of the way of the Unbearable Curse.

Hitting the wall roughly, the girl muffled her cry of pain. Harry winced and wanted to help the girl be freed from the sturdy chair. Keeping his gaze on the girl as she groaned lightly, she moved her now blood covered body away from the wall and simply lied there, watching as Sirius approached the other man in a furious stride.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Sirius shouted before the man could cast a spell. Going over to the girls torturer, Sirius managed to step upon the dispelled wand and completely break it. Grabbing him roughly by the shirt, Sirius' wand dug into the mans exposed neck in anger.

"Bartemius Crouch," he hissed in a low voice. "Resorting to torturing young _muggles_. Sickening." 'Bartemius' scoffed while letting out loud, hysterical laughter.

"Hypocritical, don't you say Sirius?" he commented with an amused smirk before looking back at the girl with an unknown— _sickening_ —affection. "And the poor girl isn't even a muggle, surely _you_ of all people would recognize Jonathan's daughter." He continued on while turning to give Sirius a smug stare. Sirius gave a bewildered look just as the girl spoke once more.

"Don't you _fucking_ dare say my fathers name, you worthless scum." She had hissed in a low voice, sending chills up Harry's back.

Both Sirius and Bartemius turned to the girl, Sirius' face noticeably paled once he saw her bruises and cuts that poured blood onto the long awaiting floor. Bartemius beamed once more, his unusual affection returning and decorating his twisted face. "Beautiful, isn't she?" He breathed out.

Faster than Harry thought he could move, Sirius had his wand pressed even deeper into Bartemius' throat, causing the mans gaze to snap back unto Harry's godfather in both annoyance and caution.

"One more word," Sirius hissed, pushing his wand harder for emphasis. "_One_ more word of her, and I'll kill you on the spot." The murderous expression didn't go unnoticed by Harry. Never had he seen his godfather look so…_angry_ towards another.

Bartemius laughed hysterically at Sirius's words, but made no further comments towards the girl. "And I suppose you have someone on the way to collect my poor _defenseless_ soul?" He questioned with chuckles still bursting from between his lips.

As if on cue— and it probably was —two puffs of green smoke erupted from the fireplaces. As Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape stepped out, Sirius apparated from the vicinity almost immediately. Harry watched incredulously as his two professors quickly rounded on Bartemius Crouch without so much as glancing upon the bleeding girl.

"Barty Crouch Jr…never a pleasure to see you," Snape murmured with his infamous glare fixated upon 'Barty' while his wand was poised at his throat. Barty sneered with a malicious smile covering his mouth while the sweat slowly began to form at his dirty brow.

"Always nice to see your _dazzling_ face Severus, but I have an appointment to attend to." Barty responded with his expression quickly fading from annoyance towards amusement before another puff of green smoke appeared, and a maniac looking woman danced out singing of how she'd kill them all. _Bellatrix Lestrange._

"Oh dear how lovely to see such…_happy_ people. Off with you!" She began with a careful eye, observing Dumbledore and Snape before suddenly whipping out her wand and spouting off curse after curse with an obvious maniacal look in her eyes.

Harry continued watching as his Headmaster and Potions Professor battled the deranged witch with shocking difficulty, though the lunatic managed to floo herself and Barty out of the room before they could have been severely injured.

Snape was furious, too which Harry smirked with amusement. Usually he and Ron were the ones that got the man to become _truly_ livid. He continued watching as Snape muttered profanities under his breath while pacing furiously with hands clenched about his wand.

"Calm Severus," Dumbledore began with one hand raised in the air, effectively silencing Snapes mumbles and allowing said man to pause his strides and stand still once more. "We have more pressing matters to attend too." The headmaster continued before turning towards the girl crumpled in the corner, struggling to remain conscious.

Snape remained completely still, even as Dumbledore traveled towards the girl, he moved nowhere, staying in the same spot all the while. Slowly, Dumbledore crouched down the the fallen girls level, trying to see if he could apparate her straight into Hogwarts' infirmary without splitching the already injured child.

Inspecting her injuries, he remained silent even as her ragged breaths quickly became labored, insinuating how injured she truly was. The ropes that bound her to the chair were already cut, by Sirius most likely, all that was left to do was pick her up and move the girl out to safety.

"Child, what is your name?" The headmaster asked softly while touching her shoulder gingerly in order to wake from her quickly deteriorating consciousness.

A few minutes passed by slowly with Dumbledore still trying to wake her and asking of her name. Several slow minutes that caused Harry's stomach to drop with each passing second. Finally, _finally_, the girls eyes opened slightly, as if she was struggling with just that.

"What?" Her voice whispered quietly in confusion. The silence that occupied the room allowed her voice to seemingly boom out, filling all three people's ears.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore repeated, patience never wavering. The girl seemed confused, in a daze really, until she finally seemed to comprehend the question. The light in her pale eyes was quickly fading, even as they closed, Harry was certain if they waited any longer, she would die. And soon.

"Remy." She breathed out as her head went limp, lulling against the floor as her breaths became harsher, more frantic to keep oxygen. "My name is Remy." She stated before the rest of her body went limp.

Harry watched with horrified eyes as the girl seemed to stop breathing all together. Watched with horrified eyes as Snape and Dumbledore quickly and swiftly grabbed her and apparated out of the Department of Mysteries.

Gasping for air himself, Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, shaking all over at the possibility the girl—Remy, had, _might_ have, died.

But one thing tugged at his mind. If she was a mudblood…or half blood,

_Why didn't she have a wand?_

_**Hope you like this so far. I'm planning on starting the story during the Goblet of Fire, which is ironic because I remember saying it was one of my least favorite movies of Harry Potter. But I take it back! Anyways...yeah...hi!**_


	2. Chapter 1: Daunting Revelations

Chapter One: Daunting Revelations

My head throbbed as my lids lifted to reveal a bright, blinding light. Snapping my eyes shut once more, I took caution in reopening them again. As the brightness diminished, the setting of a cream yellow room filled my gaze; allowing me to see the morning sun peeking into the surrounding windows that filled the room.

Glancing down, I saw my body lying in a stiff position with thin blankets covering my music note decorated pajamas. I sighed audibly as my gaze caught sight of Velcro casts covering both arms and an unnecessary amount of band aids flourishing every inch of me.

At the sound of my sigh, an elderly woman dressed in a nurses outfit seemed to have flitted to my side, asking too many questions for me to even comprehend, much less with her thick British accent and my lack of care for the answers of which I gave. After my interrogation concerning my injuries; how I got them, how much pain I felt, etcetera etcetera etcetera, she had managed to force down countless _remedies_ as she called it. Remedies my ass, my throat burned as most of the 'herbs' had sunk into my system.

This is the moment that the old man who had asked my name, decided to show up and have a conversation. After nearly four hours of incessant medication intake the man wanted to have a chat while I was completely _drugged up._ Evil genius really. I could respect that, if I wasn't you know, drugged up to my neck in unusual medication.

"Remy, I'm pleased to see you are recovering quickly," he had started off with a smile filled with kindness. The man was an evil _genius_. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I didn't quite catch your whole name last time we spoke." He continued while taking a seat in a nearby chair not too far from my cot.

I hesitated a moment before sighing and throwing caution to the wind, a bad decision really. I blame the drugs for everything so long as I'm in this loony bin. "Remilia Emma Evans…Potter, it's a bit of a mouthful, that's why I go by Remy Potter mostly," I said in that dreamy, hyped up singsong voice medication seemed to give people.

"Mostly?"

I nodded with that stupid smile still plastered onto my face. "When I would tell people my last name was Potter, they would stare at me funny. Like I had grown a weird third head or something. So I would go by Remy Evans when others like them would ask." I said with another stupid smile and small fits of laughter.

The old man—Dumbledore, gave me a curious look before pressing further into the topic. "What do you mean, _others_ like them?"

My body shrugged on its own accord. Was there like some sort of truth drug in that damn medicine?! "Those that would hide from normal people like me, they would always be off on their own, constantly talking of some sport with a…a…a Quaffle I think. They would always speak of weird stuff that I don't believe in. They noticed I noticed them, does that even make sense? Well they had decided to talk to me and see why I noticed their hideouts and such. Something about…the world of wizarding…like a video game.

"I didn't take them seriously, but talked to them nonetheless. It wasn't until I said my name did they freeze and act differently. They asked me strange questions, stuff about mold morts or something…lightning scars…a hollow that Rick lived in…I didn't know. I asked what they were talking about, and it was then did they stop talking too me entirely. It was unusual."

Dumbledore stayed silent even after my incessant talking of pointless things. Finally he opened his mouth and began to speak. "I hope you don't mind me asking, were your parents Camellia Evans and Jonathan Potter?" I nodded my head weakly. He sighed quietly and seemed to make himself comfortable in the seat as if he'd be there for a while. Tell me he's leaving soon!

"I'm afraid to say that you're parents are deceased—"

"Oh, I know~" my voice cut in with bitter merriment as a carefree smile crawled its way unto my mouth while more bursts of laughter erupted from behind my lips. "I know very well that my parents aren't alive anymore. Thank you for _reminding_ me Mr. Dumbledore." I continued, a sour taste entering my mouth.

The older man stayed silent, examining— _gauging_ —my reaction, simply staring at my carefully constructed blank face free of any emotion; a trick I had long since mastered. After what seemed like ages he finally spoke, though my stomach wrenched, indicating that he would most likely steer clear of anything too personal. Well involving me at least.

Even as he situated himself into a different position, I watched silently, finally taking in his appearance. The man looked to be in his mid seventies at best, though the fire in his eyes showed others he wasn't dying anytime soon. The half moon spectacles he wore were slightly crooked as he peered through them and at me, the blue of his robes easily matching the color of his eyes. I continued to stare, sneaking quick glances at his long beard, and I _swear_ it twitched more than once.

"Your mother was muggle born you know. Meaning she was not of wizarding blood." He had suddenly begun with a sort of eagerness, speaking swiftly and clearly as though the silence was disturbing him greatly. Though my mind had already paused and began to spin. "Your father on the other hand, was of a wizarding family that reaches far into the past." He paused abruptly as if just remembering something, momentarily glancing out a window before back at my frantic form. "I'm sure you're aware that your mother had younger siblings—"

"Wizarding?" My voice croaked out meekly. My mind was reeling at that very word. _Wizarding._ Wizarding! It's…it can't be…it's…_impossible_. It's ridiculous is what it is! I shook my head slowly as my shaking arms reached up to caress it; though as my limbs began to flex, a searing pain erupted in my abdomen, causing a scream to escape my lips. Moving my arms back down swiftly, I wound them around my stomach in a protective manner.

Sucking several deep breaths, my body seemed to shudder on its own as tears threatened to seep from my eyes. Ignoring the nurse lady and Dumbledore completely, I squeezed my eyes as more sobs racked my body. How had I managed all that time in that hell hole without feeling this?

Swallowing up the memories that threatened to explode within my mind, my eyes snapped open just as the woman's hand barely grazed my now exposed rib. Letting out a shrill scream, my vision wavered significantly as darkness battled to overtake my consciousness.

"Oh no." The nurse mumbled lowly before rushing off somewhere and returning just as quickly. I watched with gritted teeth and clenched fists as she poured multiple liquids into one container, adding a powdery substance last.

"What is it Madame Pomfrey?" Dumbledore questioned with concern adorning his features as he peered at my writhing body. The woman tsked multiple times before stirring the solution and pushing it towards my lips.

As the bitter liquid touched my tongue, my taste buds seemed to burn instantaneously. With wide eyes, I did one of the best spit takes of my life, the _medicine_ reaching across the room and hitting the beds on that side. Greedily taking deep breaths, I began to shake my head in disgust with a scowl on my face.

"That was horrible!" I shouted to Madame Pompfrey. The nurse huffed with agitation, as if it was my fault I was injured in the first place. Geez, maybe treating whiny, needy, injured people does that too a person after awhile. Scratch out being a nurse for future occupation.

"Well what did you expect? Pumpkin juice?" She snapped back at me curtly before pushing the cup back to my mouth, causing the horrid medicine to seep down my throat, leaving a slimy feeling trailing behind. Gagging profusely, my pain rendered thoughts refused to notice the gain of bodies that entered the infirmary, intent on watching me.

"I've never even _had_ pumpkin juice!" I sputtered throughout my gagging, my hand covering my mouth in case any bile decided to make a grand entrance. After a few more minutes of my gags and reverberated coughs, my stomach had finally decided to calm, my rib burning less than before.

Touching it lightly, I still winced at the immense pain, though it had subsided greatly. Glancing up at Madame Pompfrey, I gave a questioning glance, to which she gave a sympathetic smile in return before ushering in three new people closer towards my bedside.

"The ribs have been completely twisted, not broken, but twisted into an unusual sort of knot." The nurse murmured quietly, most likely lost in thought, pondering how my bones had managed to twist themselves. "Ah, well looks like you'll have a rough night Potter," she said suddenly, temporary lapse of silence quickly evading her as she scurried over in order to change my Velcro casts.

Being quick about it, I noticed Madame Pompfrey had changed my casts in an angle to be sure I wouldn't see them. My gut lurched at the mere thought of what could be there, of what it would look like. If it did in fact say that idiotic word _he_ seemed so fond of calling me. Sighing, I moved my gaze from the nurse, towards the three newcomers that were unfamiliar to me. Attempting to give smile, my mouth seemed to falter before giving up altogether.

Flicking my gaze over them, I went straight to the window, wishing I could actually be out there; wishing that flying brooms were real so I could fly away. Fly so far away from all this brutality and hurt. Fly away from Barty Crouch. Fly away forever.

"Remy, I would like you too meet some of your Professors here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore suddenly said, the earlier eagerness to avoid silence reappearing. His tone was soft, his gaze practically burning holes into my face. Looking towards his hand, my sight was met with a woman and two men.

"This is Minerva McGonagall, our Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor House," the old man began, pointing to the woman whom smiled gently at me. Her peppered colored hair was pulled back into a tight bun atop her head, while her dark emerald robes seemed to reflect her eye color. What is with the incessant matching?

"Severus Snape, Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House." Dumbledore continued while pointing at a gaunt looking man. His hard eyes and seemingly permanent scowl went well with the long greasy black hair and pale skin. He looked angry, though calm at the same instant and even he had black robes that went with his darkened eyes. Giving me an odd look, he fixated his gaze on the wall behind me.

"And Alastor Moody, ex Auror and new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this coming year." As my gaze went onto the unusual man, my gut lurched again. Though Dumbledore seemed to trust the man, _I_ didn't. There was just…something off putting about him that seemed painfully familiar.

Averting my eyes quickly, I lowered my head as a sort of greeting. Attempting a smile, I had managed a lopsided smirk as I spoke.

"Nice to meet you."

[][][]

My eye twitched profusely at the man before me. Never in my life had I wanted to hit a teacher more. His scowl only deepening at my still state, refusing to move towards the cauldron to prepare a potion. Thirty minutes he had tried—unsuccessfully, to get me to actually attempt his assignment. Thirty minutes I had refused diligently with a firm 'no'.

"I have already heard you recite the procedures twice now. Now I want you to _prepare_ it." His condescending voice rung out in annoyance. His scowl had yet to leave his face as mine stayed blank, though my twitching eye most likely gave me away.

Leaning forward on my desk, which was technically a table, I faced Professor Snape with a scowl of my own. My elbows began to burn slightly as I kept my glare with his. "No." I said, pronouncing the word clearly. Watching with amused eyes and a small smirk, I held in my laughter as his face flushed a deep shade of red while pursing his lips to a thin, nearly white line.

"That's it! Out!" He shouted in my face with fiery eyes. At his expression, I let out small bursts of laughter that seemed to reverberate throughout the room, making the dark dungeon seem less somber, less intimidating.

Standing up and maneuvering out from the chair, I saluted Professor Snape with a wide smile. "As you say Sir!" I shouted in a falsetto military voice before shaking my head and laughing once more, then finally exiting the dungeon. I sighed once I was in the wide corridors of Hogwarts. It was slowly becoming home, and honestly? It scared me.

Nearly three weeks I had been here, learning the tricks of the trade in magic. The real, literal, mechanisms of _magic_. It was surreal, and amusing. All my Professors had insisted I buy a wand so I could learn '_properly'_, though even now, I've refused. I just couldn't shake that feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I saw one of them pull out their own wand. I could feel a small part inside me shrivel up in fear.

Nearly all the Professors understood and didn't really pressure me into it, just light hints here and there. But Snape was a whole other issue within itself. The man seemed to be heartless when it came to my boundaries, something he liked to insert his opinion on nearly _every_ chance he got. There's been certain moments where I nearly punched him, and the man would smirk as I would retract my already clenched and shaking fist. A great teacher he is, though he seems to dig under people's skin and latch onto there.

Unlike Snape, Professor McGonagall was extremely patient when it came to my little wand phobia and was more than supportive, though remained stern with her lessons and taught me the spells nonetheless. Though learning how to tranform things without a wand, is like learning the fingerings of notes for an instrument you don't even have. Needless to say, Transfigurations is not something I'm fond of, lets just keep it at that.

Herbology was a new one. I mean, Potions was just simple chemistry; though instead of Sulfuric Acid and its neutral base, it was something along the lines of Bat Wings and Dragon Blood. So naturally I thought Herbology would be like Biology and Environmental Science. _So_ wrong, it's like the things I was taught before might as well have been _trash_. None of it really went into what these people were teaching me, though it had corresponding ideals; it was all so different. Too different.

Flitwick was a character; the man was jumpy, jittery and down right hilarious. Understanding with my _enthusiasm_ of magic, he had given me a small twig that would stage a wand, then preceded in teaching me proper wand motions, flicks, and spells as well as their pronunciations. He was an excellent Charms instructor, though socially awkward. Very uncomfortable when catching glimpses of my slowly healing injuries, though a bit uneasy myself, I'd just laugh at the faces he'd make.

While Professor Flitwick was entertaining and seemed to make an effort, Professor Binns was something totally different. The first day I saw his ghost, I had had a panic attack to which he didn't understand why. Apparently everyone had failed to tell me that ghosts were in fact _real_, and just so happened to wander the halls of Hogwarts. After Madame Pomfrey had given me a calming serum, she explained to me that Professor Binns didn't know he was dead and had died many years before.

Nonetheless, he was a horrid teacher; droning on and on with a monotone voice that could put even an insomniac to sleep. The only reason I had managed to keep my eyes open and mind coherent when he spoke, was the fact that all the fairy tales I had once been told, were true. It was oddly fascinating and disturbing, disturbing to know that all those things were real; that they were _always_ around.

Muggle Studies was simple enough; painstakingly, insufferably easy. Professor Burbage was a nice charismatic woman who simply fawned over the fact that I grew up with muggles and their values. Instead of teaching me things I already knew, she had given endless essay prompts to answer, saying that it was interesting to hear from a near muggle's perspective. She was nice, but the lady made the scars along my right arm throb.

While studying habits of normal people, Arithmancy was something I wanted to kill off. All the damned numbers Professor Vector gave me made my head spin. I swear the _warm up_ exercise was like a freaking game of sudoku that the experts couldn't finish! After about ten minutes, all the numbers seemed to mesh and mold together to form a giant blob that spelled out 'Get Out While You Can'! Though it wasn't all that bad, sometimes it spelled 'Try To Survive'. It gave me hope I'd live to see the outside world again.

"Remy dear!" Madame Pompfrey shouted with a wide warm smile. Returning hers with a smile of my own, my eyes flicked to the freshly made beds that aligned with the walls. Dumbledore had told me earlier that the school year was about to start, and that I should head to Diagon Alley to get some essentials for the upcoming semester, or "term" as he likes to call it.

"Ok dearie. Ready for it?"

I blinked twice before registering that I was now seated on a cot of my own. Glancing away from the rest of the infirmary, I looked down to my still casted arm. Time to take it off I suppose. Gulping I nodded meekly.

"Poppy, it won't be…_that_…bad. Will it?" I timidly asked as I watched her careful hands clasp around my Velcro cast in expert motions. Looking up at me, she gave a reassuring smile before glancing back down. Biting my lip in anxiety, I saw as the cast came off and dark red, blue and purple markings came into view.

My stomach churned as I saw the nearly bruise like cuts that decorated my arm. Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise higher, I sucked in a shaky breath, my facial expression most likely the epitome of mortification. Judging by Poppy's sympathetic gaze, it was.

Stroking my hair in a motherly way, she cupped my tear stained face before giving a soft smile. I could feel my heart shatter as my stomach dropped, just the look of it…I knew those scars would be with me forever. Forever was daunting. Bringing up my left arm, I quickly wiped away all my tears before gingerly touching my battered limb.

I watched as my fingers gently brushed over the repetitive and multi colored wounds. Holding back my tears as pain rocketed throughout the limb, I wanted to cry more at the words that the wounds formed. I knew before even looking what it said, but a small part of me had deluded myself into believing it wasn't true. That they were just cuts, and not words.

_Mudblood._

All in _his_ handwriting, that word was strewn all across my arm in different positions, directions and angles. From the bottom of my hand to the top of my shoulder it decorated my flesh like Wrapping paper. I could see my hand shaking violently as it hovered before leaving completely.

"The Cruciatus Curse Barty used on this arm was very harsh," Poppy began in a small whisper before continuing. "It's not just a flesh wound, the cuts have been…they've been…" she kept repeating while looking up at me and glancing back down at my battered arm repeatedly. Blinking twice, my mouth refused to move and form words.

"The cuts have been…their…" stopping completely, she ceased avoiding my gaze and turned to me fully with a look of sorrow. "The cuts are so deep…that their engraved into your bones. I…I've tried, but it can't be healed."

My lungs refused to function. I couldn't take in a breath. My vision was becoming blurry and the room seemed to spin wildly. I was panicking. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

[][][]

Calming my hiccups and wiping away the last of my tears, I managed to escape my hiding place and walk out towards the unusually sunny day. I could feel my saddened eyes ignite with glee as they fell onto the strange sporting arena off onto the distance. Making a split second decision, I began walking towards it with a wide smile of delight.

After I don't even know _how_ long, I had managed the long journey towards the arena, though with a slight problem. Once I had gotten there a woman with clear yellow eyes and spiked white hair came hustling over with determination decorating her features.

"Excuse me! Yes you, young lady! Would you like to explain what you are doing here?" She demanded with a glare. It took all I had not to roll my own eyes. Snape had a way better glare, it actually made me feel uneasy. Hers just made me feel hollow.

Blinking, I managed a smile while extending my hand towards the woman. "Hello ma'am, my name is Remy. Remy Potter."

She gave a scrutinizing look before her gaze landed on my hand in apprehension, though as she looked at it harder, her apprehension dissipated into sympathy, catching a glimpse of my scars no doubt. Allowing a small smile to cross her mouth the woman finally met my eyes. I could feel the anger bubbling just below the surface as she began to speak.

"I'm Madame Hooch—"

"Don't give me that look." I stated bluntly, voice devoid of any emotion. Fixating a blank stare onto her bewildered expression, I let my hand drop before finding its way into my pocket. I could feel my face twisting in a scowl the longer she stayed silent. "Don't look at me as if I'm fragile and easy to break. I'm not." Just as I was about to turn, I managed to catch a fire suddenly burn in her eerie eyes.

"Then how about a game of Quidditch?"

Halting at her challenge, my blood ran cold at the mention of that word. Quidditch…wasn't that what those strange people were telling me about? Some sort of game with a…a…Quaffle? Twisting my lips, I finally let it lie into a smirk as an idea crashed into mind. Whirling around to face Madame Hooch, I cast a look of genuine confusion.

"What exactly is Quidditch?"

Delight seemed to blossom on the woman's face as she ran off somewhere, only to come back with a huge trunk in tow. Watching carefully, she popped open the lid to reveal three balls sitting patiently in their designated areas, two of which were identical and shaking on their own.

"The game of Quidditch has been around for ages, providing an outlet for witches and wizards competitive nature." Madame Hooch began animatedly, giving me wide, overly theatrical hand gestures. "Now, not many girls do excel in this sport," she paused, her eyes igniting with joy as she continued on, pointing to what she was talking about. "But those who do, are great! There are three balls and seven players.

"The Quaffle," she started whilst grabbing the ball in the middle with three indents onto it before throwing it at my face. Giving a slight shriek, somehow, I managed to catch the damned thing before aiming at her face with a glare. Sadly, Madame Hooch caught it easily. "Is the ball that the three Chasers pass each other, and or try to steal from the opposing team. Once in possession of the ball, they throw it through these hoops to gain points." Looking at the three different goals nearest too me, my brows tugged together while I frowned slightly. How the hell do they get it up that high?!

"The second and third ball are identical, they are Bludgers." The instructor began while gesturing towards the violently squirming balls. Understanding why they weren't about to be released, I nodded, eyeing them wearily. Sure would hate to be hit by those. "There are two Beaters that have a bat each. They deflect the Bludgers from hitting their teammates, and aim them towards the opposing team."

"And finally." She drawled out dramatically. I could feel my eye twitching violently in annoyance. Why is she acting that way? Shaking my head, I watched with semi patient eyes as she opened a small compartment containing a small golden ball. "The Golden Snitch. That little bugger is wicked fast, and once it's caught by the Seeker, the game is over. Though when it moves, it's damn near impossible to see." Before I could so much as touch the thing, Madame Hooch had locked it back up and closed the trunk.

"Now, for flying—" I could feel glee suddenly burst through my system at the mention of flying.

"Wait! You fly…like on broomsticks and stuff?" I asked, though the echo that followed probably meant I'd been a smidge louder than intended. Whoops.

The woman gave a nod of approval with a smile adorning her face at my eagerness. Had Dumbledore told me sooner about broomsticks and you know, flying, there's no way I'd have been walking anywhere. I swear, flying on a broomstick from Snape's dungeon to the library would be so _epic_. Not to mention how pissed he'd get.

"Madame Hooch, you're about to look at your best flyer." I stated proudly with a self content smile. I'd be able to freaking _fly!_

_**And there's chapter one! I made it in Remy's point of view, so I hope it isn't too bad. No, she isn't Harry's twin sister or sister or long lost sibling…though I think it's pretty obvious with what's going on there. I re read it twice, but I'm not sure if all the mistakes are gone so sorry! Next chapter: she gets sorted! DUN DUN DUNNNNNN! Dramatic I hope :) Hope you liked, and thanks for reviewing! I really liked them, I swear I nearly cried. Not even joking, I was that happy. If you have any suggestions or something I'd really like to hear them(: Well this was a long A/N…**_


	3. Chapter 2: Unfathomable Variants

Chapter Two: Unfathomable Variants

_Standing stock still with shock written clearly across my face, I held my mouth agape at Dumbledore's request. His _**_demand_**_ actually. Of all the things that he could have called me up into his office for, _**_this_**_ was definitely something I didn't want to hear. Shaking my head clear of the initial shock, I gave the old man a forced smile. Clearly I'd heard wrong._

_"I'm sorry, I think I mistook what you said," I started in an overly polite manner, something that seemed to have Dumbledore on high alert. I was said to have a fiery temper one shouldn't mess with, something about the Evans fury. "It sounded like you asked me to…to buy an __**actual**__ wand."_

_"Remy, I assure you that this is vital to your learning—" Dumbledore started in a calm manner that seemed to snap the small portion of self restraint I managed to have towards the matter at hand. Slamming both palms atop the Headmasters desk, my mint rock eyes easily met the pale blue of the elder with a hidden fury._

_"You want me to buy a __**wand**__! And use it! You __**know**__ I am not fond of those mangey twigs Professor!" I shouted, clearly letting go of any self restraint. Palms stinging from the brute impact of the hit, I bit back my curses of pain, not wanting to show anything but betrayal and anger._

_Looking back at me with a seemingly calm expression, the caution that entered Dumbledore's eyes was astounding. He seemed as if no one had ever looked at Hume with all the anger I had now. Doubtful that he had any children of his own, my glare intensified. If he __**did**__ have at least a daughter, then he would have gotten this look plenty of times. The last emotion that flashed within his eyes was clear. Confusion. He obviously didn't have kids._

_The white hot anger inside me seemed to worsen the longer i glared at Professor Dumbledore. swiftly closing my eyes. I took in deep, ragged breaths. I slowly stood from my hunched position over the large desk, and clasped my fingers onto the small bridge of my nose in attempt to calm without further outbursts. After several seconds of this, my eyes reopened to their usual stoic green. The emotionless mask once again put into place._

_"Fine." I gnashed out, though a brief flash of fear still managed to evade my mask despite my fruitless efforts. Though he didn't say anything, Dumbledore noticed my slip up and leaned back on his chair slowly. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did to occupy my time in order to forget; I was scared of magic, and it didn't matter how much my mind tried to deny that fact. It terrified me to the core, but it was a fear I had to overcome._

Snapping out of my brief reverie, I gawked at the lively place before me with a whimsical expression. What sounded like a poor beat up alleyway with few shops, ended up being another world completely. Everywhere I looked, all that met my sight were smiles plastered onto people all alike, though a select few seemed to sport a scowl of annoyance.

Simply standing still with awe decorating my face, I took in Diagon Alley in its entirety. With shops filling in either side of the never ending road, one would think it went on forever. As a small spark of curiosity ignited, a jovial voice perturbed my thoughts.

"Alright Miss Potter! Off to Gringotts we go!"

Glancing down as a small hand found its way into mine, I did my best to follow the fast strides of Dobby, whom had been asked by Professor Dumbledore to help in my supply shopping. As I walked, my head would snap in nearly every direction in order to get a better view of whatever caught my eye.

As we ventured off of the Main Street, the elf and I halted before a large disproportionate structure known as Gringotts, a Wizarding Bank. Frowning at the structure, unease seemed to settle in the pit of my stomach at the thought of it possibly crumbling into itself; which with its obvious alignment issues, was _very_ likely.

Still staring at the structure, my eye twitched in annoyance. I could barely balance a checkbook in a currency system I _understood_. Now I had to go and use money that wasn't even up to par with the British standards or the Euro? Fantastic.

As we entered the supposed _bank_, my sight was greeted with numerous goblins situated in their own designated area; stamping and writing away on whatever document they seemed to lay their hands on.

Walking forwards despite my growing nervousness, I along with Dobby stared up at the apparent head goblin perched atop a high podium. Blinking a few times before deciding to be polite and wait, I began to let my eyes wander once more. All the creatures seemed to have similar…height issues with equally matching scowls. Maybe they just looked creepy when smiling…?

After nearly ten minutes, my very limited patience ran to a thin thread. Ignoring Dobby's warning, which was him shaking his head vigorously from side to side, I fixated a glare at the head goblin who had still yet to even _acknowledge_ my presence,

"Yo podium dude! Am I allowed to get money or not?" I drawled out with what some would deem as, 'unnecessary sarcasm'. Quirking an eyebrow as the goblins head slowly rose, I allowed a smirk to perch unto my lips.

Slowly, the head goblins movements halted before his gaze met mine with unbidden ferocity. Biting back my scoff at his obvious superiority complex, I watched as he heaved out a giant sigh and placed down his pen. Folding his hands below his chin, I couldn't help but stare at the claws that grew from his fingertips.

The goblin continued to stare at me for several more moments before deciding to speak, as if it was a great privilege to even be granted of the honor. "State your name." He stated firmly, not even the smallest trace of emotion slithering past his bored expression.

Taking deep calming breaths to prevent a sudden— no doubt _violent_ —lash of anger, my eyes grew into slits, the white hot Evans Fury igniting nearly instantaneously. Reminding myself that this goblin was the barrier between me and buying necessities, I swallowed down my irritation and nearly spat out my own name.

"Remilia Potter."

Not even seconds after my name was said aloud, all of the room stilled. All previous sounds of working, stamping and scribbling quills ceased, only to be replaced by inquisitive silence. Not daring to turn around and catch the gazes of every worker, my back simply stiffened under the burn of multiple eyes.

Still giving me a doubtful look, the head goblin simply continued to stare along with the others, not even bothering to accept a document from the— openly gawping —goblin next to him. Assistant perhaps. The temporarily subdued anger bubbling from within me flared once more the longer the silence endowed; the longer they all stared at me as if I was something unheard of. Foreign.

As the anger erupted into my gaze, the head goblin seemed to have an epiphany, realization and recognition spreading across his face like wildfire. "And does Miss Remilia Potter have her key?" He finally asked after recomposing himself, using a condescending tone only Snape would be able to match with ease.

With an unwavering glare meeting his gaze steadily, I could still feel the infuriating silence surrounding me, I could feel the burning stares of all the workers who refused to move on with their day. Feeling my fingers begin to twitch, relief sprouted though my body as Dobby decided to speak in my place.

"I would have her key, Sir." The small house elf murmured while reaching into the dirty cloth that wrapped around his body. After several fumbling seconds, he managed to pull out an old fashioned key. Spiraling into an unusual knot small threads seemed to extend over the length and eventually formed the end of the object, enabling it to actually unlock a door.

Grabbing the small key almost greedily, it took another silencing amount of time as the goblin looked over some paperwork before facing me with another unpleasant scowl. "Off to Vault six hundred and eighty eight. Remember this Miss Potter; 17 Sickles and 493 Knuts each makes One Galleon while 29 Knuts makes One Sickle." I blinked several times with my mouth agape, not even bothering to hide my obvious confusion.

"And in _American_ currency that means…how much exactly…?" I somehow managed to stammer out, the pain of trying to convert money into unknown numbers most likely showing a sort of pain on my facial features. At least with Arithmancy there was some sort of hint…hidden…somewhere.

Giving me a dubious look, the head goblin sighed once more. "One Galleon is roughly 7.35 dollars while a Sickle is 46 cents and a Knut is 2 cents. Understood?" I pulled a disgusted face.

"Not at all."

[][][]

"Are all goblins that rude?" I muttered as we managed to exit the peculiar bank with the allotted amount of money I'd need for supplies and such. After the head goblin had been less than welcoming, the others had continued to openly stare, though they had the decency to hold back their whispers.

Stopping at the edge of the narrow street, Dobby proceeded to pull out a piece of paper from within the horrid contion of fabric wrapped around his body.

"Yes they are. Alright Miss Potter, I shall go and fetch all your harder things such as cauldrons, textbooks, potion supplies, quills and parchment; but I'm afraid you will have to gather your robes and wand on your own." The small house elf replied before shooting off in an apparent game plan of the most unusual school shopping imagined. Though before I could nod, he continued. "It'll take about and hour and I've taken the liberty to scratch off the things I'll be getting from your list. Once I've finished I shall apparate to whichever place you will be."

Confusion washed over my features as my eyes glazed over slightly in concentration. Vaguely, I recalled a brief lesson on the concept of Apparation with Professor Flitwick. Slowly, I nodded but worry overrode my confusion.

"But how will you carry all the stuff?"

He smiled warmly before showing me a small satchel that hung around his shoulder. "This has been charmed to expand on the inside, though it looks small in the outside." He said before handing me a similar bag along with my supply list before seemingly vanishing into thin air. Apparation at its finest.

I let a warm smile cross my lips before looking through the list that wasn't crossed off in scratchy ink.

_Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)_

_One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear_

_One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)_

_1 wand_

_Dress Robes (only for special occasions that will occur through the year)_

I sighed at the now short list of necessities that I'd need to attend this school. Letting out a low whistle at the thought of how much it would cost, I shook my head once more. That vault was just…it was so…illustrious. There was just so much coins in there stacked and piled upon each other like it was waiting to be used. In all my life, never had I owned more than thirty dollars at one time. Now here it was. A vault filled with more than enough to support me.

Letting another smile to grace my lips, I began my search for a store that sold robes, considering all I needed to buy was clothes. Wandering aimlessly along the street, squished in between many, I managed to spot a large sign that read _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Heaving a sigh of relief, I somehow exited the throng of wizards and entered the store.

Dim light met my sight as soon as I had entered the shop, a cold gripping fear would have overcome me had the atmosphere not been warm and inviting. Cautiously taking small steps, seemingly walking towards a rack of clothes, a few robes flew past my head and continued to place themselves in either a rack or on display. I cod fel my nose scrunch slightly. Despite all being the same size, each seemed to have different decorations and patterns adorning the fabric.

"Oh! I knew I heard someone come in." An excited voice called from behind me. Snapping my head quickly towards the voice, my sight was met by a jovial elder woman. Instinctively, my eyes flickered down to the long slender wand held in her left hand. Angry images threatened to flash into my mind, haunting me to relive all those months I had somehow blocked out.

"What can I get for you? Oh, though you'll probably need new robes…"

Snapping out of my useless thoughts, the woman had already snatched my list from within my grasp, and dragged me over to an area surrounded by mirrors, presumably to fit the clothes to each person. Suddenly standing befo a mirror, I watched as the woman read over the list once more, and flicked her wand aimlessly.

Holding back a flinch, I simply watched as several robes, a winter coat, gloves and a hat came my way. After trying in the little things and watching them fly towards the counter, the shop keeper decided to fit my robes. As the fabric shrunk to fit my body, Madam Malkin appeared behind me.

"Oh dear. Look at this! Knobby knees…small…and look at this hair! It's absolutely messy! This is no good…" the woman tsked at me, choosing to comment only more obvious faults. I held back a smirk, she had been excessively complimenting my eyes, but now she was criticizing my other traits.

Looking at myself in the mirror, bright green eyes stared back at me mischievously. Raking them down, they focused on my small slender frame, accompanied by knobby knees. Carefully depicting my five foot frame, a small smirk managed to cross my pale pink lips. Quidditch players were supposed to be strong and able to handle Bludgers, and other nasty tricks, especially the Chasers. Madam Hooch had regarded my natural ability to play the sport with praise, stating despite my small fragile frames, I'd be a marvelous Chaser. Glancing upwards, my eyes caught the messy, unruly light brown locks that made up my hair. I liked my hard to tame hair, it never failed to amuse me when each strand stuck up in unnatural angles.

"Nonetheless, you'll bloom into a fine young woman soon enough. Though with eyes like those, you might have trouble fighting off the blokes for your attention." The shopkeeper noted, causing a slight blush to creep upon my face at the mention of guys finding an interest in me.

Taking off the robe and letting it float with my other supplies, I had managed to pull out the amount of money I'd need to pay in order to leave. Quickly handing them over too Madam Malkin, I caught an odd expression decorating her face. It was a mix of sadness, pride, and curiosity. Giving a small smile, I grabbed my bags and strolled back out unto the busy streets of Diagon Alley.

Avoiding the giant sign that had _Ollivander's Wand Shop_ written across it, I continued to walk, doing my best to avoid the staggering amount of people filling up the narrow street. Looking for a shop— any shop —to distract myself from the nauseating fear in the pit of my stomach, I caught sight of a tiny shop wedged in between to considerably bigger ones on either side.

Entering the _Junk Shop_, I was met with tall, staggering stacks of things I couldn't name. All around seemed to be broken or useless things that nobody wanted anymore, the items littering nearly every square inch of the small shop. Hearing a small buzzing in my ears, I turned my head towards the left, catching sight of a broken Snitch. Looking more carefully, it's right wing seemed to be bent in an odd angle, causing the poor ball to fly in an unnaturally slow speed.

Reaching up slowly, I gently grasped the golden ball, letting it rest in my hand comfortably. Holding down its bent wing, I saw that it seemed to have been bent on purpose. A sudden anger sparked inside me. Who in their right minds would deliberately brake a Golden Snitch? Doing my best, I unfolded the wing, leaving only a small crease indicating it had been folded unnaturally in the first place.

As soon as its wing had been fixed, I watched it fly quickly into a different direction. While it wasn't as slow as it was a few moments ago, it was nowhere as near as fast as it should have been. Letti curiosity get the better of me, I followed the old Quidditch ball, maneuvering around the enormous stacks of unknown items around me. It made me feel as if they were mountains and the small pathway I was taking was a road intersecting them.

Shuffling around a sharp corner a huge stack of old textbooks made, I was met with the sight of a small circular area. Books of all shapes and sizes were stacked completely around the large trunk sitting before me. Stacked piles of said books were assembled to make a cylinder type of shape, making the entrance hidden behind a sharp turn the only way in or out. I watched silently as the Snitch circled the large trunk several times before flying into my fingers, seeming to pull my hand closer to the old suitcase.

Laughing slightly, I followed the charmed objects orders silently. Taking two small steps, I kneeled before the dusty old thing. It was a rather large trunk; rectangular with rounded edges, the entire thing was a dark brown color with two pale brown straps holding the thing shut. Uncaring, I let my hands release the straps from the brass buckle that held them together. To my dismay, the shrunk still wouldn't open. With growing annoyance I continued to stare at the thing, searching for a hidden lock.

Hear the Snitch before I heard it, I caught sight of the flitting object just as it wedged itself into a small circular hole I somehow managed to miss. I watched incredulously as it unfurled its wings completely, the small object making the perfect key in the center of the trunk. As soon as it had fit, the ball seemed to sink in further, causing the earlier buckled I had earlier undone, to click on either side of the lock.

Quickly flying out, the Snitch continued to circle the now open trunk, as if urging me to open it. After a few seconds of hesitation, my hands reached out and slowly lifted the lid. As it opened, I heard the creak of the old thing, as if it hadn't been opened I years. Quickly glancing at the awaiting Snitch, I sighed. It probably HAS been years since it was last opened. Propping the lid open, making sure it wouldn't fall shut and brake my rummaging hands, I stared at the soft blood red velvet that lined the entire inside of the trunk.

Reaching out to touch the bottom of the lid, I was pleasantly surprised to feel items hidden within it. Moving my hands along the fabric, I managed to find the folds of each hidden folder. Pulling them out slightly, I was met with four thin spaces that held numerous papers and possibly notebooks. Pushing the thin, fabric covered accordion folder back in, I glanced at the outer pocket. It's wasn't exactly hidden like the ones it hung on. Not bothering to unzip the bulging pocket, I let my gaze wander to the deep hole a trunk was made for.

Instead of one giant hole that occupied the entire bottom half of the trunk, it was separated by a thin wooden barrier. On the farther right was a thin rectangular hole, maybe four inches wide at most. It was a long thin rectangular hole that I chose to ignore in favor of the more over crowded on to the left. Occupying the rest of the space, this portion was filled with several books that appeared to be for school and others for personal use.

Besides the neatly packed books stood several bottles of both open and unopened ink, broken and unbroken quills and a large packet of parchment that seemed to be more aged than normal. Besides the obvious school supplies, I could see viles of potions, not wanting to touch them just yet, I scanned the rest of the contents. There was scattered paper tucked into every available space possible, along with several large notebooks. Picking up one, I was mildly surprised to see it bound together with leather, along with a lock and several charms.

Placing the notebook back where it once was, my eyes wandered back towards the narrows hole I had previously brushed off. Not bothering to hesitate, my hand reached into the small narrow hole. Feeling nothing at first, I let my hand wander around before my fingers softly brushed a long smooth object. Without thinking, my hand automatically retracted in fear. I had only felt one once, and the memory wasn't particularly pleasant nor gratifying.

Swallowing the gnawing terror, I tentatively reached back into the trunk. Finding the smooth object once more, I managed to pick it up, somehow managing to pick up another. As the dim light glittered across both objects, I sucked in an audible breath. Never had I seen such beautiful wands, much less feel assured rather than petrified. Staring at both intently, my eyes scoured for any signs of damage. When finding none, I could feel the confusion escalating within me.

Why would someone give up two perfectly good wands? The longer of the two was a dark brown color with a nicely carved Victorian handle, the aura it seemed to emit was mischievous, but somewhat calming. While the other wand was smaller, it was equally as beautiful, a soft brown was the color while small budding flowers decorated the entirety of the object. This particular wand felt much more serious, but just as caring.

The fact that both wands brought comfort and peace rather than anxiety and fear was astounding. I could literally feel all the emotions swirling around me in blurs. Snapping out of my daze, I shook my head and gently placed both wands back down into their place within the trunk. Deciding I had seen enough, I brought down the lid and proceeded to buckle the straps in order to completely close the suitcase.

Just as I was going to pick it up, the Snitch flew straight past me and back into its lock, presumably locking the thing shut. I blinked before shaking my head in disbelief. I've only played Quidditch for a few weeks now, but this particular ball seems like it has a personality. The Golden Snitch's that Madam Hooch has all uncurl their wings and take off. This one seems so happy and curious with purpose. I paused. Maybe it was charmed?

Following the excited glittering gold ball, I was able to exit the maze of crap that practically filled this place to the brim. As the natural light flooded in, I paused to search for the shopkeeper. Seeing the small desk by the entrance I began making my way towards it, lugging the heavy trunk behind me. Trying as best as I could to not knock anything over, I ended up losing sight of the Snitch.

Catching sight of me forcefully dragging an oversized trunk the elderly man gave a bright smile. I could feel my cheeks burning with the newfound heat the store seemed to have. Chuckling awkwardly, I began rubbing the back of my neck.

"I take it you would like to buy that there trunk?" He asked amused at my red face. Twisting my lips slightly, I nodded while finally moving it towards my side, my cheeks flushing with slight exhaustion. Before the man could ring up my trunk, the Snitch whizzed in my line of sight, circling the shopkeeper several times before halting in his face. The old man simply laughed.

"I see your wing has been fixed there Alfie. Now what is it you want to tell me?" He questioned, voice holding nothing but amusement. My head tilted to the side a bit at the name he called the Snitch.

"Alfie?" I questioned the shopkeeper, taking his concentration off of the glittering ball. Giving another joyful smile, he nodded.

"That there Snitch has been here as long as that trunk your wanting to buy. Poor thing might as well have a mind of its own with the way it flys about and such. Though he's never shown anyone that trunk, much less flown this fast…" he trailed off, seemingly in thought. I let a smile cross my features. I bet the owner of the trunk charmed the Snitch, though the name Ludo did somehow fit it quite well.

"Did the owner happen to charm Alfie here?" I asked, voicing my theory to the man. At the mention of his name, Alfie came buzzing around my head quickly in what seemed like a happy confirmation. Laughing at the flying balls actions, the shopkeeper seemed to agree.

"I suppose so then. Did you happen to fix his wing there?"

Just as I was about to nod, Alfie flew around me twice before going off behind the shopkeeper and disappearing within a dark purple curtain. Staring at the path Alfie had taken with curiosity, the older man silently followed suit, leaving me standing in confusion.

After a few minutes, the older man emerged with a perplexed expression and several items in his hands. Watching silently, the elder man set down an older looking Photo album, a thin box that required a key to open, and bent down only to bring up a slightly smaller version of the trunk I wanted to buy. Looking at me with curious eyes, he took awhile to say something.

"Do you happen to have a key on you? Any type of key?"

I stared at him dumbly. A key? The only key I happen to have is my Gringotts key, why would he want to know about that? Against my better judgement, I reached into the small satchel Dobby had given me and pulled out my small key to vault six hundred and eighty eight. Pushing the slender wooden box towards me, the elder man did nothing else but watch.

Staring at the light wooden box before me, I slowly pulled the box closer before pushing the key into the slot. I stared wide eyed at the box as the key went completely in, opening the sealed lock. Cautiously, my hands lifted the lid to reveal letters stacked and stacked upon each other. Resting along the top of the highest letter was a long golden chain with tiny broomsticks and wands adorning it. The things were so small I had to squint to see them.

"These items here are yours too keep." The man said softly. Glancing up sharply, I saw the mans soft smile.

"I don't understand." My voice whispered, looking back down at the chain, it seemed to glitter.

"Well for one, Alfie here has never led someone to that there trunk. And for a second matter, that little box hasn't been open since it was brought in here." A somber expression seemed to cover the old mans face. "I remember when that trunk was brought in nearly thirteen years ago. A man came in with the saddest face I'd ever seen. He left that big trunk, this smaller trunk filled with memorabilia of the two wizards who once owned it, the little box you just opened and a photo book. He told me Alfie here was the key to all of it, and only sell these items if he presented them to a person.

If he did show a person the trunk and wanted the other objects, the person should be able to open the thin box. The man had told me that Alfie here was something special, that he had been charmed by both the owners of all these things. He told me that if Alfie wanted the objects to be sold, that they should be sold altogether." The shopkeeper said with a small smile, something twinkling in his eyes. I couldn't really read the emotion very well before Alfie fluttered into my face.

Blinking several times, I hadn't even noticed the chain had been in my hands. The glittering ball flittered around the chain, as if he was inspecting it before coming to a full stop, staying in one place. I cast the thing a befuddled look.

"He wants you to put the chain in him. Alfred here isn't a real Snitch. He was a necklace before the owners had both charmed him."

Nodding slowly, I did my best to put the chain though a small little hook on the awaiting Snitch. Once the long chain was around him, I tied it around my neck. Feeling him buzz excitedly against my stomach made small giggles burst past my lips.

"Alright there lassie, this'll all be at the price of 7 Galleons." He stated in a business like tone, though I could still hear the kindness just as easily. Pulling the money out, I paused jsy before handing it too him. It just felt like so little for all the things I was getting. Junk Shop or not, I felt as if I was cheating _him_ of _his_ money.

"Are you sure? For all this stuff 7 Galleons doesn't really sound like much…" I trailed off sheepishly while placing the golden coins into his hand. The older man barked out a laugh.

"Well little lass, what is your name?"

"Remilia Potter, Sir." I said with a small smile. With the kindness this man had constantly shown me, the least he deserved was to know my full name. Letting his laughter die down, he seemed to pause before giving me another smile in return, understanding now dawned along his face. I returned it with a puzzled look. Madam Malkin had given me the same expression.

"Well Miss Remy Potter, this here is all memories, and I think you would greatly appreciate them." He replied with a knowing smile. Still confused, I gave him a wide smile nonetheless before doing my best to place all the items into the small satchel that hung across my body. Thanking the old man once more, I proceeded to leave the Junk Shop with a newfound curiosity and a fleeting thought.

It's really hard to shove a trunk into a charmed bag. I know it's supposed to fit, but still. At least it doesn't feel heavy.

[][][]

A small battle of fear, anxiety and courage was taking place in me as I waited inside Ollivander's Wand Shop. After I had left the _Junk Shop_, Alfie had started flying in the direction of the accursed wand shop. And when I tried to take the long chain off my neck, the damned Snitch simply started flying harder until I let the chain fall from my fingers.

How he seemed to know I didn't want to enter the wand shop was beyond me, but nonetheless I was here and the shopkeeper still had yet to pop up. Taking a quick glance around, my feet stayed rooted by the door while my eyes roamed aimlessly. The shelves that made up nearly the entire store were filled with stacks of thin boxes that no doubt, contained the very things that had inflicted pain on me.

Like Madam Malkin's, the shop was very dim with only two lights to illuminate the place. Unlike the Robes For All Occasions store, the aura was not welcoming nor inviting. The longer I stood there the more I was ready to bolt from premises and never look back. My mind even went so far as to consider getting back to America.

As I was contemplating a way to escape the foreign country, an old gangly man came stumbling from the back room, a perplexed expression on his face the entire time. At the sight of his awkward elegance, my stomach clenched painfully while heart rate sped up rapidly in an unhealthily fashion. As he wandered over towards his desk, I did my best to make no nose, did my best to remain unseen.

My attempts lied in vain as his head suddenly snapped to my direction, excitement and happiness flitting across his features. Refusing to do so much a smile back, I simply gave a curt nod. "I've been awaiting you for quite some time Miss Potter. You know you look so much like your mother, but I also see much of your father in you as well. Such fine qualities…" he trailed off, leaving me baffled. He knew my parents?

"You knew my parents?" I blurted out before I could stop it.

Giving yet another bright smile, Mr Ollivander nodded enthusiastically. "Why of course! They came in this very shop and bought their own wands! The wand chooses the wizard Miss Potter, remember that." He concluded before bustling over and taking out several long, thin boxes and placing them on his desk. As he did so, I contemplated the information he had just given me.

My parents had gotten their wands here in this by shop, hell I had just _held_ two wands not even ten minutes ago. I had held them and I wasn't cowering in fear, I wasn't awaiting for a fatal blow to miraculously come hit me and I wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. I was comforted, almost even _relaxed_.

"Alright dear, try this one out." He said nicely, taking out the first wand from its thin compartment. Pushing aside my growing anxiety, I stuck out my hand to actually grasp the mangey twig. Though before it was even in my clutch, Mr Ollivander snatched it back and away from me, muttering on how it 'Wasn't Right'.

Several sticks and many broken vases, glasses, shattered shelves and discarded wand boxes later, I really thought he was going to give up on me. In fact, I was _hoping_ he'd give up on me. Long since had my crippling fear vanished, all that remained was annoyance over the fact that I had been standing for nearly fifteen minutes.

Feeling Alfie buzz against my stomach, the Snitch was suddenly up and flying around me excitedly. Doing my best to avoid getting choked by the chain, I ended spinning in circles along with him, causing small bouts of giggles to erupt from my parted lips. After my laughs had come out, Alfie stopped spinning, and settled back to being a necklace.

Looking up, I saw Mr Ollivander looking at my slightly happier state with more excitement than I had seen in him earlier. Watching his quick strides as he nearly ran to the back of the store, I could almost feel the gears in his mind turning with newfound ideas.

Coming back just as quick as he had gone, the older shopkeeper carried an extremely dusty box within his hands. I eyed the dark green container wearily. Ignoring my scowl, the man gave a bright smile while pulling off the lid with barely contained glee.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this before! Every thing I've given you has repelled against you before your hand has even touched the wood. You seem wary of wands and your eyes show pain though you still manage to laugh." He paused and took out the wand. It was beautiful really, the handle looked like it was just barely cut from a tree and glued to the bottom while intricate swirls rise from it, stopping midway of the stick. It actually looked like someone just carved it from a freshly cut tree.

"This here is a 10 inch Palm Wood wand with the core being a Unicorns Horn. The poor animal came across me as it was dying and allowed me the pleasure of using its horn. Unicorns are pure creatures you see, their horns are hardly ever used for wand making. Palm wood on the other hand is extremely rare here in Britain seeing as how there are no palm trees just lying around. Not to mention, palm trees are about the cleanest wood, allowing happy, pure energy to enter it. Never has there been a wand with both these elements."

Soaking in his words carefully, I simply continued to stare at the wand. When the words finally registered in my mind, my head snapped up with my face full of confusion. Smiling at me softly, Mr Ollivander proceeded to explain.

"The one who owns this will do great things. Powerful things. Good things. And the world will always need more good Miss Potter." He concluded, allowing me to barely understand what he was implying. I watched as he carefully handed the wand over to me, seeing if it did in fact work. Reaching my hand out cautiously, my fingers curled around the long stick. Almost instantly a warm feeling spread throughout me as a soft glow seemed to flood from above my head. I xpcast the ecstatic man a puzzled look.

"So this— _my_ —wand…is pure?" He nodded his head.

"It is meant for a surely good person. No matter what they've seen. This wand will only listen to you. Some will obey any person, but this one is stubborn and has wisely chosen you and you alone. So should someone disarm you and try to use your own wand against you, it wouldn't work." He clarified to my jumbled thoughts. Nodding at the more recent knowledge the had given me, I realized that this particular wand had yet to make me squirm.

Taking the two steps towards the counter, Mr Ollivander gave me a reassuring smile as I handed him the allotted money needed for the magical stick. Placing my nephew 'Mangey Stick' back into its box, I had nearly turned when the shopkeeper decided to speak once more.

"As you are destined for good things. Great things, so is your family." He called out to my almost turned body. Facing him once more, I gave yet another confused expression. The man simply regarded me with another happy smile. I frowned.

"I'm sorry to say, but my parents are dead and I haven't any family left Mr Ollivander."

"That is what Harry Potter said when he came to buy his own wand a handful of years ago, though here you two are. Oh! And do take care of those two wands in that trunk of yours! They are very nice indeed!" He called out as I exited the shop with confusion and paranoia plastered on my face.

[][][]

_Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop._

As soon as I had entered the shop, all the earlier confusion that had been caused by buying a wand and picking up robes had instantly vanished. As I walked past all the younger kids huddling around a stack of I don't even know what, my head snapped up to see the flying toys and other airborne trinkets flitting around. What looked like potions, candies and other things filled my sight. Unlike the past three shops I had been too, this place was filled with people wandering around. Smiling, I walked aimlessly past many groups of excited people.

Only did I know where too go when I caught sight of a sign that was labeled _Bombs_ from across the store. Making my way over to the secluded section, I maneuvered my way past girls squealing over a bright pink liquid that I'm guessing was a love potion, the same amount if guys huddled around throwing things that would explode, and other people messing with things I couldn't even begin to describe.

Sliding behind a bookshelf as a means for a shortcut, I managed to find myself standing before the abandoned section known as 'Bombs'. It was unusual too say the least. All the packets of the apparent _Bombs_, were separated by what they did. Most of the ones towards the higher level that I had no chance of reaching, were smoke bombs that were so thick it would take a few hours too clear. Bypassing all the labels that weren't in English, my eyes zeroed in on a packet with the words _Dung Bombs_ on it.

Reaching over on my tip toes, my fingers managed to get ahold of the small packet of magical manure. Now in front of me, I let out a laugh at what the description warned wielders of. I can't believe they have this lining shelves and fully in stock.

"They make this? And actually _sell_ it?!" I heard myself cry out in both amusement and horror, though the amusement outweighed it indefinitely. Laughing slightly at my own words, I reached up and miraculously placed the packet back on its hook in one try. Suddenly realizing that what I just touched was a BOMB, I took a sharp step back in case it decided to go off. Somehow managing to hit something hard, I p stumbled to find my balance once more.

Turning in annoyance at what I hit, I had to look up to see the person I had accidentally bumped into. Blinking a few times at the chest I was eye level with, I huffed at my lack of height and looked up to the person. Peering back down at me with bemused blue eyes, the dude had messy red hair atop his head with a goofy lopsided smile. I scowled at the height difference, completely ignoring his now full blown smile.

"I didn't know something as small as you could give such a hard shove." He joked. Taking a few steps away from the guy, I did my best to hold back my glower at being called short. Meeting his eyes with a smirk plastered on my lips, I let my remark roll off my tongue.

"S'not my fault you can't handle a little shove from a small person like me," I shot back, my taunting tone matching my smile. With my arms crossed obverse my chest, I shifted all my weight onto my right foot, watching as his face went from amusement into shock. Blinking several times, his surprised face shifted back into its amused one.

"I didn't know they let Americans in here. Let alone cheeky ones."

"Eh, what can I say? My awesomeness just outshines all the others they rejected." I responded quickly, my natural flare for talking back paying off. Laughing at my response, the guy stuck out his hand for me too shake. Despite my obvious confusion I shook his hand anyway, my small hand slipping easily I to his larger one. He laughed again at my expression. Apparently I was some new form of entertainment.

"Fred Weasley. Also known as Gred." He said enthusiastically while shaking my hand in an over exaggerated fashion. I let out a small laugh before my nose crinkled once more in confusion.

"Gred? Why Gred?"

He laughed at my lack of knowledge. Ain't he just a nice person. I rode an eyebrow at his beaming face. "Everyone mistakes me for my twin brother, George. So some call him Forge and me Gred." He explained as if it was an everyday occurrence, though I suppose it was.

"Remilia," I said, shaking his hand that hadn't left mine. Giving me a surprised look, I bit my lip to hold my laughter, though it hadn't worked that well. Letting out small bursts of laughter, I went to explain. "But everyone calls me Remy." I explained, my hand finally falling from his.

"Oh! That makes more sense, you don't look like a Remilia. A Remilia sounds like some stuck up book worm Prefect that would murder someone with a wooden spoon for doing something fun." Staring at his serious face, more laughter managed to escape me. I shook my head at his idiotic words.

"Well don't you paint the loveliest pictures?" I responded sarcastically.

"I do try." He murmured theatrically with a hand over his heart. I chuckled softly the stupid expression that crossed his face. It honestly looked as if he was constipated, but happy about it. The guy certainly in how to make someone laugh, that's for sure. Just as his mouth opened to say something, a small crack rang from beside me before a large feathered object hit me hard in the face, causing me to fall backwards.

"Ack!" Was the only thing I let out before Fred caught one of my flailing arms, quickly pulling me back up from nearly hitting the floor. Giving him a nod in thanks, I rubbed my stinging cheek as I rolled my shoulder that held my weight from where Fred had yanked me upwards.

"Oh dear! Dobby is most sorry for harming Miss Potter! Dobby must—"

"It's fine Dobby, no harm no foul, right? Anyway, what the hell hit me in the face?" I asked obnoxiously loud while still rubbing my burning cheek and tingling nose. "Freaking hurt…" I mumbled as Fred laughed from beside me.

Rolling my eyes at his loud laughter, I bit back a smile and decided to let my handy dandy sarcasm take over.

"Yeah, so glad that my pain brings joy to others." I drawled out, pointing a glare to Fred, who seemed to laugh harder. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to an awaiting Dobby. He was such a nice house elf, I offered him some clothes once but he refused saying he'd already gotten a sock.

"Dobby helped buy the supplies and thought to surprise Miss Potter with an owl! So here is Dobby with a nice owl for your mail for Hogwarts and such! His name is Ludo and is a Great Gray Owl. Does Miss Potter like her owl?" The small elf asked shyly towards the end. Laughing, I bent down and gave Dobby a small hug and lent my arm out for Ludo to land on, which he surprisingly did. Standing back up, the owl simply stared back at me, it's gentle goalie green eyes meeting mine.

"Miss Potter?" I heard Fred question while I was attempting to pet the head of my new owl. Turning to him, I nodded. "Yeah. Remy Potter. Why?" I inquired with my head tilted to the side. I don't get it, what's so weird about my name? All the shopkeepers looked at me like that when I had mentioned it.

"Uh…do you happen to know a Harry Potter, by any chance?" Mulling over the name I finally shook my head no.

"Mr Ollivander did mention him when I went to go buy my wand earlier, but I didn't really understand what he meant. Something about us both saying something about families…I'm not sure. So far all this Wizarding stuff is just weird." I murmured while continuing to stroke the dark charcoal feathers of my owl.

"You've barely gotten a wand?" I heard the red head ask incredulously. Glancing up to his shocked face, I nodded.

"I'm a wee bit late on this whole magic thing, but I've caught up on what I need to know. All I needed to gather were my supplies and a 'proper' wand is all." I said casually, though the sarcasm seeped through when I enunciated the word proper much like stupid Snape.

[][][]

Three hours. Three hours it had been and I'd yet to move closer towards the object. I couldn't. The thin wooden box I had opened with my Gringotts key just sat there, staring back at me. Taking a deep breath I mustered up all the courage I had within me and plunged the key into its lock before twisting it open. **_(That sounds so sexual)_**

Lifting the lid, I saw one word engraved writhing the inside. _Vergrendeld (hout) _not knowing what the hell that even meant, much less the language it was in, I pulled out the entire stack of letters and started from the bottom.

_Johnny,_

_You're an absolute git, you know that? How you've managed to make me even go out with you is completely beyond me. Lily just told me she's absolutely infuriated with James, so give the little shite a good whack for me._

_-Lia_

I cracked a smile at the blunt anger that was shown by this girl 'Lia'. It was obvious she was angry herself judging by the deep indents her words created against the parchment. Staring at the beautiful handwriting for a few more seconds, I flipped the letter over, only to reveal 'Johnny's' response to his girlfriends angry three sentenced _letter_.

_My Dearest Lia,_

_Woman, you really do know how to make a man feel appreciated don't you? After all the love and affection I've shown, you have to go and make me beat my dear kid brother? The sad thing is that you know I'd gladly do it. So long as I get a kiss in return of course. So I hear that Dumbledore is planning on some sort of festival this year in Hogsmeade right before Christmas Break or something, want to go? Early bird gets the worm they always say. Plus, it's a date with me, now that right there…yeah that's awesome within itself. I can practically feel your smile right now…and the growing need to punch me as well. God I miss you so much right now. On the bright side, there's always Diagon Alley next week. I really can't wait. Mum's already getting fed up with my eagerness, even James is starting to get annoyed. But at least Dad understands, he says that when Mum and him first started dating that he'd practically tear the door down before every date, sometimes even when there wasn't one. Anyways…mind explaining why I'm about to bludgeon my brother? I'd like to have a reason to prove my innocence when Mum's wrath comes my way. I swear, the sod is starting to get to me. I mean, ME with an overinflated ego?! At least I can control myself! That bloke can't stop moaning about how the world is practically going to be in the palm of his hands this coming year. If you decide not to tell me why I'm about to commit assault, at least I have a back up reason. Now I know how much you're absolutely dying to read my letter, so I'll go ahead and cut this to a close. Bye, love._

_-Jon_

A smile graced my lips at the long response the guy managed to give. His sass was practically radiating from nearly all his words, no wonder his girlfriend seemed so mad. Although when speaking of their upcoming date and such, he seemed to take a softer side. It was sweet really, that a guy with a supposed 'overinflated ego' would seem to soften and calm a bit when speaking of Lia.

Glancing up, the date of his letter graced my sight. _July 15, 1974_. I quirked an eyebrow at the imprinted date. Twenty years ago, presumably on the summer going into their later years in Hogwarts this letter was written and sent off by some owl.

With a renowned sense of curiosity, I carefully folded the letter back up and went for the next one.

_Johnny,_

_I'm not entirely sure as too why Lily was angry at James. But I do know she was driven to tears, and that is enough for me to know. Although I'm positive it had to do with some prank or another, a dung bomb in her trunk presumably. How'd you manage to find out about some festival? I swear, James got that mischief of his from you. Petunia managed to snatch your letter before I could, and dammit I'm ready to jinx her. Underage magic or not! The girl was absolutely spiteful, for what? I've no idea and honestly? I couldn't care less. She's been really off her rocker with Lily and I since the whole Hogwarts thing. Unlike Lily, I've managed to understand she won't see us in the same light. And I swear if you say that understanding is a Ravenclaw thing, I will have no problems dismembering you. Boyfriend or not! Anyways, Lily is still trying to talk to the Muggle and find some hidden reasoning. So far, her attempts lay in vain and I'm ready to absolutely murder Petunia. The Muggle keeps referring to us as 'freaks' and 'abnormal' or my personal favorite 'magicians'. The smarmy little bird has been ranting and ranting over how unbelievably GLAD she is that she is so normal and will have a normal husband with normal babies with an absolutely NORMAL life…jinxing her sounds very appealing to say the least. I can't wait till we're at Diagon Alley, I really do miss you, you bloody prat. Bye, love._

_-Lia_

I smirked at her show of affection. The woman seemed absolutely feisty, and was apparently once a Ravenclaw, her choice of grammar being any indication.

"Ducky? It's time to take that cast off now."

Quickly putting my letters away, I nodded towards Poppy and followed her to the infirmary.

[][][]

"Oh Miss Potter! There you are!" Professor McGonagall said, ushering me towards the collected and corralled new first years whom openly gaped at me. My obvious age difference startling them. I gave Professor a small smile while one hand clutch Alfie, a new habit I had managed to acquire.

"Sorry Professor, I needed to change…" I murmured shyly while rubbing the back of my head in an awkward position. She was a really nice woman; undoubtably stern, but nice all the more. Giving me a nod she turned to the first years and said some words before disappearing quickly into the Great Hall. I sighed. Left alone with the little ones.

Looking over the crowd of excited eleven year olds, I gave a smile to any that looked my way, which happened to be a lot. Besides gawping at me, they all seemed to already be separated into their own little group of friends, gossiping about the upcoming year and what house they'd be in. The only house I knew several kids would be in for sure was Slytherin, simply because of the fact that they had been glaring constantly at a secluded boy with a gloomy expression painted on his face.

Feeling angry towards the glaring kids, I made a split second decision and walked my way over to the boy being cast aside by those who surrounded him. The closer I got to him, the more he seemed to look saddened. Frowning slightly, I managed to catch his attention and give a smile.

"Hey, are you alright? You seem a bit…lonely." I said to the kid softly. Dark green eyes looked up and bore into mine. All the hidden emotions I had felt— been _feeling_ —seemed to echo in his. Sadness, mistrust, apprehension, fear, caution. It was all the mark of a pariah,. The mark of someone different.

"Am I a Mudblood?" He asked quietly in an American accent all of his own. I gave hi a soft smile and placed my hand atop his messy brown hair. I would have kneeled to his level, though the boy was already above my waist, but not near my shoulders either. He was tall for his age, though rather lanky with skinny limbs, kind of like me I suppose.

"A Mudblood is what idiotic people say. So what if your parents are Muggles? It doesn't make you any less of a Wizard. Who called you that anyway?" I questioned, voice hardening towards the end. The boy shrugged slightly, seeming nervous under my heated gaze. Averting his eyes and staring at the _fascinating_ floor.

"Some people in the train. I just wanted to sit with them, make friends you know? Then they started asking me these questions and stuff. How was I supposed to know the answer to things I don't know? Then they called me one and told me to get out and not come back. They all kept laughing…" Patting his head in reassurance, I let my hand fall to his shoulder before squeezing it slightly. He looked up at me abruptly, seemingly in a daze.

"What's your name anyways kid?"

"…Calvin Jacobs" I gave Calvin a warm smile, hoping to ease his worries and fears.

"Well Calvin, don't worry I've got your back. My names Remy Potter."

Before long, Professor McGonagall had come back to explain how the whole Sorting Ceremony would happen and what a House was for the students. I watched silently as she led us to the giant doors of the Great Hall with nerves jumbling up in my stomach. I don't look like I'm old, but I definitely can't pass off as an eleven year old. I'm taller than every one of them!

As we walked through the middle of all four tables, I could practically feel all the questioning gazes burn into me. Doing my best to ignore them all, I simply stared straight ahead with little to no emotion on my face. I had eaten here plenty of times and it didn't mean I was any less awed of course, but this wasn't the time to openly marvel yet again at things I had already seen. Though I smiled as Cal kept snapping his head in random direction like a small bird, trying to take in all he could at once. I was thankful when we had reached the front of the Great Hall.

"Now when I call your name, you will come up and be sorted. Now this year we have a rather unusual age difference, so we'll start off with the obvious." McGonagall stated while looking through her giant list of names in one hand, and a black hat in the other. I stared dumbly at the hat. Who was the obvious—

"Remilia—"

"Oh!" I shouted, smacking my forehead in both my stupidity and embarrassment. How did I not catch that? We'll start off with the OBVIOUS. I am apparently the obvious. I chuckled nervously. "My bad." I murmured before leaving Cal's side and going to sit on the stool.

"Potter!" The hat shouted rather loudly as soon as it landed atop my head. Jumping along with most other people, I saw a guy with dark messy hair and glasses sharply look up and towards me in confusion before a flash of recognition and disbelief crossed his face. I furrowed my brows. Did I know him from somewhere?

"Ah…very interesting…but where to put you?" The hat murmured. When the hell did hats start to talk?!

_I don't have too talk out loud_

I could feel my eyes widen and my face contort into shock. The hell is this?

_Lets see now…where to start? _I could feel something plunge into my mind, but as soon as it came, it left. _Ravenclaw…ah, your mother was placed into there. You clearly have the brains though not obvious. But I can feel more than simple knowledge in you. This particular house doesn't feel right…Oh? Your father in Hufflepuff I see. The loyalty is definitely there, fiercely if I do say so myself, but not quite right either, your patience is far too limited for that. How about Slytherin? Oh yes…the deception you do daily, you've even managed to deceive yourself. Cunning? Oh certainly, I see you've squirmed out of just about the worst torture I've seen on a wand less wizard…_

"I know where to put you…" the hat suddenly said aloud, startling myself and many others. Eyes squeezing shut while my left hand squeezed Alfie, I felt a sharp pain throb throughout my right arm. I could practically feel that damned word being recharged into my bone once more. Slytherin? Where their all cunning and deceptive, i kniw fir a fact _he_ was a Slytherin. The sickening feeling in my stomach nearly doubled. Slytherin doesn't sound like my favorite place to be.

"Gryffindor!"

My eyes snapped open as loud applause echoed from one specific table. What the flying fuck?!

**_ Sorry for making anyone who reads this wait! I would have uploaded this a month ago, but every time I wrote it, it just felt so wrong. my first attempt was total shit. I rewrote it TWICE in Third POV before finally writing this. So in total, I wrote this…four times. I hope you guys liked it. I apologize for any grammatical errors. It's 3 am and I have to be up at 8, so I'm nearly dead and I have to pee really bad so I hope things weren't way to obvious in this chapter. Until next time, peaceskies!_**


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